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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152198">Alternate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessa/pseuds/Jessa'>Jessa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Ballet Terminology, Complete, Explicit Language, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kisses, HEA, Jagnus!kiss, Jalec!kiss, M/M, Multi, Prince_Siegfried!Alec, Swan_Lake-typical references to suicide and self-harm, Swan_Queen!Jace, Swan_Queen!Magnus, Transformation, Winged!Jace, canon-typical references to step-sibling incest, implied sexual content / sexual references, polyamorous themes, repressed_bisexual!Jace, unconventional wings, virgin!Alec, winged!Alec, winged!Magnus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:08:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessa/pseuds/Jessa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Alec and Jace wake up at the usual time. Before the dark night turns grey and birds start their first calls to the budding sun. But Alec and Jace are unlike creatures of earth, governed by circadian rhythms. They’re more than human, even; and like clocks, not organic things they measure, their bodies run to rhythms that don’t flux with light or the tide or the temperature. Alec and Jace are precise instruments honed over years for their art.</i>
</p><p>Not a re-telling but inspired by the 2011 Portman/Aronofsky film ‘Black Swan’. Some of the scenes mirror scenes in the movie. Nobody dies in this AU and it’s HEA.</p><p>In chapters 2, 3 and 4 a specific piece of music is mentioned that they all dance to in all their combinations: Jagnus, Jalec, Malec and then Malace. <a href="https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zurL66lHS9o&amp;feature=share">It's here if you'd like to listen: 'Perfection' by Clint Mansell from the Black Swan soundtrack (2011).</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hunter's Moon Fic Recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In Pursuit of Swans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to Mau, Myulalie, Shiva and EarthToLottie for at various points helping me with the mechanics and motivations for this fic. </p><p>This story is in response to the HM500 prompt: wings. It is way over the word count so I am disqualified but I just wanted to acknowledge that the prompt definitely triggered this idea.</p><p>I hope you enjoy it and thank you for checking this out &lt;3</p><p><br/>Please adore the banner above made by Shiva who makes the most incredible things and I feel so lucky I received this!! Thank you Shiva so much &lt;3 made for the <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thehuntersmoondiscord"> Hunter's Moon Discord September Scavenger Hunt</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alec and Jace wake up at the usual time. Before the dark night turns grey and birds start their first calls to the budding sun. But Alec and Jace are unlike creatures of earth, governed by circadian rhythms. They’re more than human, even; and like clocks, not organic things they measure, their bodies run to rhythms that don’t flux with light or the tide or the temperature. Alec and Jace are precise instruments honed over years for their art.</p>
<p>The stepbrothers stretch, shower, dress. Stretch some more, crick their necks and toes, then eat. No fat, high protein. Shoulder their equipment bags, already packed, and leave their apartment. Hoods up, eyes down, walking to the train. Sharing AirPods and alternating Spotify playlists between Jace’s tuneless 90’s thrash and Alec’s soft indie male pop.</p>
<p>“What do you think the score will be like?” Alec asks as the train pulls up and they step inside the carriage. Playing in their ears are lyrics by Conan Gray. “Think they’ll keep it classical or more like the music in the movie? You know, instrumental...more Clint Mansell than Tchaikovsky?”</p>
<p>“Guess we’ll find out,” Jace says as they sit down opposite each other by the window and the train takes them in to New York City where the company’s small studio is. Where Alec and Jace have been dancing for over a decade, since Alec was eleven. </p>
<p>“What do you think Magnus Bane’s like in person?” Alec asks after several dark miles of nothing but the muted sounds of steel on steel through dirgey guitars and pained lyrics. “Are you nervous to meet him?”</p>
<p>“No,” Jace says, his mismatched eyes still fixed on moving points in the distance, sliding as the strip lights of tunnels slide by. “The company promised to feature me this season. No matter if it is Magnus Bane I have to dance with, I believe them when they say they’ll continue to do that. They know I’m dedicated. And you too, Alec, they know you're dedicated too. As committed as me. They’ll look after you too eventually. It’s the new guy who should be nervous around us. You and I’ve got nothin’ to prove. This is our ground, not his.”</p>
<p>“We’ve only really danced in one production,” Alec says. “Others in the company have danced in far more.”</p>
<p>“But none of those dancers are as <em> good </em> as us, Alec,” Jace hisses, leaning in and staring intensely at him. “You and I are the best and they all know that. And soon Magnus Bane will know that too. He’s got <em> everything </em> to prove around us.” Jace leans back and stares out the window of the carriage again. “And we <em> have </em> danced in <em> many </em> productions, Alec...dancing in the <em> corps </em> still counts as dancing. Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”</p><hr/>
<p>The sky is light by the time they mount the subway stairs and emerge on the street to start the twelve-block walk to the little Brooklyn theatre. At two points Alec notices someone who could be Magnus Bane ahead of them, black hair styled in a faux-hawk, and wearing a charcoal coat lined with ice-blue feathers. He doesn’t walk the same path that Alec and Jace do and Alec thinks he must be skipping up the blocks in cabs between walking. Either that or he’s magic and can walk through walls. Alec and Jace always walk together but if Alec were alone he’s sure he’d stay on the subway or catch a cab too if he had any money. His waitering job in the diner pays nothing though. Catching cabs to rehearsals sounds like a luxury. And Jace likes to walk. So they walk.</p>
<p>“Earth to Alec.” Jace grabs him by the scruff of his hoodie and pulls him from his daydream and across the last set of pedestrian lights. </p>
<p>The faux-hawk who looks like he could be Magnus Bane crosses from the other direction as they reach the theatre’s corner, and he and Alec and Jace all stop when the three of them meet there. He gives the stepbrothers a look, up and down like he's checking them out. Alec blushes and next to him he can feel Jace’s whole body stiffen. </p>
<p>“Principals?” he asks, still eyeing Alec and Jace with equal measure, but his baritone voice sounds soft and enquiring to Alec, with no hint of malice that he can detect. </p>
<p>Apparently Jace has other ideas though. “Yeah,” Jace lies because Alec is technically only a demi-soloist; an understudy to principal dancers. </p>
<p>So Alec opens his mouth to say that but before he can, Jace is pulling him along again, this time by the sleeve of his hoodie. And the faux-hawk who Alec is certain now is Magnus Bane has disappeared. And the stepbrothers are around the back of the theatre now. Jace punching in his code so the pair of them can enter through the company’s backstage door. </p>
<p>“Do <em> not </em> give that guy <em> any </em> ammunition whatsoever, Alec, understand?” Jace growls. “He’s gonna test us out, man, so don’t give him anything, okay? Don’t say fucking <em> anything</em>. Let your dancing talk first. Show him what you’re worth. What we’re <em> both </em> worth...no new guy is gonna threaten us here, no way. No <em> way</em>...shoulda been you, Alec, gettin’ that part. I still can’t fucking believe it. <em> Meliorn </em> should be the prince, not just stuck in the <em> corps </em> again. He’s good enough to get a real part. It’s a fucking <em> joke </em> he missed out and they scouted some <em> name </em> instead of featuring you.”</p>
<p>“Magnus is only gonna be just exactly as good a dancer as you are though, Jace...you know that, right?” Alec says. “You’ve <em> both </em> been cast as principals, not just him.”</p>
<p>Jace storms through the fluorescent-lit cinder block hallway to the change room, hurls his equipment bag down on a bench and starts to strip down to nothing. Alec’s eyes linger like they always do on Jace’s bare skin as he unzips his bag and yanks his support and leggings from inside it. </p>
<p>Alec does the same although much more carefully. “You’ll tear those again,” he warns Jace, still looking at his body while he pulls his own support and then leggings slowly up his long waxed legs so the material can mold to the tight muscles of his calves and thighs and glutes but not rip. “You know you always do that to them when you get upset like this, Jace.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Jace says, slowing down a little but not by very much. Tucking a cup inside the front seam of his Skins. “Well, that’s why I bring five pairs of these, Alec, isn’t it?” Alec looks at him wryly. “And I’m not <em> upset</em>, I’m <em> ready,” </em> Jace adds. “So Magnus better bring it because I sure will.” He winks and Alec smiles. “C’mon,” he says, tapping Alec’s ass on his way past. Alec’s still busy with his cup and the touch sends a frisson through his body. “Let’s go see if <em> Bane </em> brought his A-game, huh?” Jace adds. “Ready, man?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Alec answers, cricking his neck and rolling his shoulders as they leave the change room for the studio.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Victims of a Spell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We all know the story,” the martinet intones in her thick French accent as Jace and Magnus break apart. Each breathing hard, chests heaving. Jace’s bare pecs gleaming with sweat and Magnus’ biceps glistening from beneath the short sleeves of his turtleneck leotard. “Of a virgin, pure and sweet.”</p><p>The principals walk away from each other, catching breath across the floor of the studio. Jace heading for his blue cotton towel and Magnus for his purple microfiber <em> chamois</em>. As Alec watches on, seated on the boards at the sidelines. With a sparrow-grey shrug keeping the muscles of his shoulders loose and a long pink warmer still pulled up past the knee of his right leg. Winding fresh tape around the calloused toes of his left. </p><p>“The virgin is trapped in the body of a swan,” she continues. “They desire freedom but only true love can break the spell. Their wish is nearly granted in the form of a prince but before he can declare his love for the virgin, their lustful twin, the Black Swan, tricks and seduces him. And, devastated, the White Swan leaps off a cliff. Killing themself. In death they are meant to find freedom.” </p><p>The martinet claps her hands thrice, calling Jace and Magnus back to the centre of the floor, their brief break over. “Again, please, my swans...Magnus?” </p><p>Alec watches her close in on him and cup her hand around the back of his neck, drawing the principal dancer nearer and speaking lowly to him. </p><p>“This time you must let go <em>much</em> more, yes? Let the carriage of the White Swan’s arms transform you...and you <em>show</em> the audience how that feels with the parabola of your <em>cambré</em>, yes?”</p><p>He nods, the martinet moves away and Magnus turns to face Jace. Who’s already standing in position. Glaring across the floorboards at him.</p><p>“My handsome prince.” The martinet approaches Alec now. “You will shadow my White Swan this time, no more <em> Siegfried </em> today,” she says as Alec removes his shrug and warmer, and stands. Having finished the taping of his toes. He cricks his neck and, like Magnus, nods at the martinet. Then he eyes Jace, notes his feet, and arranges his own in first position. Exhaling and preparing his body. His machine. “And...ready, my maestro? <em> Perfection in E Major, </em> from the same place...<em>both </em> swans, showing me <em> letting go </em> and <em>cambré</em>...prince, showing me <em> White Swan</em>...and <em> one </em> and <em> two </em> and <em> three </em>and-”</p><p>Alec and Jace move as one. It’s so easy for Alec to shadow him. Even though Alec is nearly a half-foot taller; over years of training with Jace they’ve learned how to time their movements to account for small differences like height. Or the length of an arm or the curve of a spine, or the time it might take to leap and return to the ground. </p><p>So when Magnus <em> fouettés </em> and Jace <em> elevés </em> to <em> demi-pointe</em>, or <em> jetés</em>, Alec rises on his feet too. Or leaps with Jace, extending his leg or arm whenever Jace lands or lifts. And imagining that he, Alec, can feel the weight of Magnus against the muscles of his forearm when Magnus dives. Or when Jace holds him while the Black Swan holds a <em> poisson </em>position, and Jace and Alec dip together. Alec imagining that the Black Swan, held firm inside of Jace’s strong arms, is right there in Alec’s own too.</p><p>“But why must <em> Swan Lake </em> end in tragedy?” the martinet asks as Jace and Magnus dance, and Alec mimics Jace. And the delicate <em> pianissimo </em> bursts into B Minor. “Why can’t a person reconcile from within?” she continues over the <em> fortissimo </em> of the pared-back chords, hammered out now on the company’s vintage Steinway. “For not until we do that can we reconcile with others. Not until we embrace ourselves can we hope to embrace another. And that, all my swans, is freedom, not death. <em> Love</em>.” </p><p>Jace and Magnus dance the company’s story of the Swan Queen flirting with the sides of themself; Jace attempting to catch his Dark counterpart. Magnus flitting from just outside of Jace’s reach. Time after time the White Swan tries again and again to enfold him. And Alec tries again to imagine that he could too. </p><p>To catch Magnus every time he bends. To embody Jace and dance as well as him. To not just mimic his arms but feel them as they reach and grasp and miss and chase, until the final movement of the dance unfolds. In which the swans no longer vie but unify. </p><p>Magnus begins the final sequence of <em> fouettés</em>. Throwing his leg out faster and faster until Jace reaches for Magnus one more time. And Magnus pulls himself out of whips so numerous that Alec’s lost count of how many he’s completed. So many Alec wonders, in the most secret part of his heart, if even Jace, as good as he is, could ever manage to match the total. </p><p>Exhausted by their internal battle, the Black Swan lets the White Swan have them. Magnus collapses into Jace’s arms and the White Swan lets the Black Swan pause there, calming. Both dancers slowed in the centre of the studio. Jace bent, Magnus with him, and Alec still mimicking Jace. All of them coming to rest in three technically perfect <em> cambrés</em>.</p><p>The piano stops and the last notes hang in the air as Alec stares at a point halfway between his mouth and his bent arm. Imagining the lips of the Black Swan. And that, if this were real and not just a rehearsal, he or Jace, whoever it were playing the part of the White Swan, would kiss these lips in a final display of acceptance. The crescendo of the performance. The freedom in the story that the martinet recalled as Jace and Magnus danced. </p><p>But there is no applause. Only another three sharp claps. Hollow sounds made by one scrutineering pair of hands. <em> Martinet’s</em>. Alec lifts his eyes. They briefly meet those of Magnus, whose form is still supported by Jace’s; both dancers still positioned in hyper-extended, graceful-looking bends. Deep and full of emotion to Alec’s eyes. Jace and Magnus relax. Alec blinks the beautiful image away. And then he straightens out his own body too. </p><p>“Repeat,” the martinet says as Jace and Magnus break away and cross the studio floor to go and towel their bodies down once again.</p><hr/><p>Just outside the backstage door, waiting for Jace to emerge post-rehearsal, Alec extends his arms and begins to brush through positions from first to fifth. Practising his <em> arrondi </em> and <em> allongé</em>. Things instructors have always picked him up on and today has been no exception.</p><p>“Have you always danced, Alexander?”</p><p>Alec whips around. Magnus has appeared out of nowhere again, as he had on the morning of the first rehearsal. When they’d all crossed paths on the street and Jace had been so stand-offish. There are fire doors either side of the theatre so perhaps Magnus left the rehearsal through one of those; Alec had definitely seen him in the change room at the conclusion of the afternoon sessions. He frowns. “Where-?“</p><p>“You’re a good dancer,<em> Martinet </em> is right,” Magnus says. “I watched you today. You dance a very handsome version of Siegfried. Tall, yes, but dashing. The <em> aplomb </em> you dance with is precise and has the beginnings of just as much elegance. I’m looking forward to when we can practise our parts together, once all these principal studies are over. But when you dance, Alexander, I can see what you’re thinking. As though you haven’t always danced...you live with Jace, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Alec says, nervous. Mindful of what Jace had said to him about Magnus on the morning of their first rehearsal; so much so that these words are the first real ones he’s ever shared with Magnus, even though they’re well into the preparation schedule now. This is the first time that Alec and Magnus have said much more than a <em> hello </em> or <em> goodbye</em>. “He’s my stepbrother,” Alec says. “We live in the Bronx. Get the train in each day. How ‘bout you?”</p><p>“I come in from Queens,” Magnus says. “Looking for a place here in Brooklyn, though. Especially now I’m dancing for a company here. Moving would make a lot of sense. Less time travelling, more time dancing.” </p><p>Alec nods. He’d love to spend less time travelling in and out every day but apartments in the Bronx are all he and Jace can currently afford. At least until they start getting parts that aren’t just in the <em> corps </em>more often than they are. Those parts pay less than waitering. </p><p>“You never quite answered my question, by the way,” Magnus adds. “Perhaps you don’t wish to. I would understand that. We don’t know each other and dancing is such a competitive thing. Please know, though, that I wasn’t asking as a-”</p><p>“Your question?” Alec asks, frowning at Magnus again. “I’m sorry, I...I didn’t mean not to answer your question...what did you ask me again? I think I must've been caught up in my head...thinking through the movements again, and all, y’know?”</p><p>“I asked you if you’ve always danced,” Magnus recalls for Alec. “But not as a challenge, I was just curious...but really, I would totally understand it if you’d rather not say. Like I said, you don’t have to share things like that if you don’t want to...as for me, I’ve been dancing ever since I can remember, both of my parents were principal dancers for the National Ballet of China. And then, when they moved to New York, and had me, well, my mother stopped dancing and my father couldn’t get work. So he started teaching. They’re in New Jersey now. Too far for me. There are far too many pretty things here in this city to warrant living so far away from <em> any </em> of them.” He offers the smallest of smiles. And his eyes seem to burn in a way that mesmerizes Alec when he adds, “And far too many opportunities to dance with them <em> all</em>.”</p><p>Alec blushes and the backstage door behind him clangs from the inside, then screeches open and Jace emerges through it. Hoodie up, with his equipment bag slung roughly over his shoulder. Jace stops dead in his tracks when he sees Alec and Magnus, looking from one to the other and glaring very hard at them both. “C’mon,” he grumbles to Alec after a minute, clutching at his cuff and pulling him in the direction of the subway. Alec lowers his eyes and follows.</p><p>“Jace?”</p><p>Alec and Jace both stop. Alec turns around all the way but Jace just cocks his jaw in Magnus’ direction at first. Then he turns, just a little further, and glares over his shoulder at Magnus, who is standing exactly where he was before Jace emerged from the theatre. When he and Alec were talking. </p><p>“Yeah?” Jace huffs. “What?”</p><p>Magnus says it all in the same soft baritone. While he looks only at Jace. For some reason, even knowing how competitive Jace is and how strongly he had felt about a new dancer being awarded a part which he thought should be filled by himself, so other parts could go to Alec and Meliorn, this whole exchange between Jace and Magnus still surprises Alec. They dance so close, so frequently. They <em> must </em> talk too. And yet Alec can’t begin to imagine that occurring but here they are. Alec listens, still just as perplexed by all of that as by what’s being said.</p><p>“Please do consider what I mentioned before, Jace. I like to get to know my partners a little, so please don’t think that it would be a chore. It really does help me a lot. Audiences can see that in dancing, you know? When dancers are more than just...well, machines, I guess. They don’t connect with machines but when dancers can be human too...on stage? Perform as people? And especially when they’re partnered...audiences like to see that one partner can relate to another as a <em> being </em> too and not just as a...well, not just as an <em> instrument</em>, Jace. <em> Martinet </em> is right about that as well. I am much more than somebody’s instrument...and I can’t let go. Not really. Not if you don’t too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Halls in the Palace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Roll your right shoulder forward and down. Left shoulder backward, up, forward, and down. Then reverse.” </p><p>Alec performs the actions for the wardrobe assistant fitting his alternate costume. White footless tights, feathered from thigh to hip, and a sleeved harness concealing a pair of white wings made from a prototype fabric designed by students at the Pratt. The assistant is remotely unfurling and furling the wings for Alec while he moves.</p><p>“Much better,” she says. “You are ready for <em> Martinet </em> but you had better take those with you too.” The assistant looks toward an embroidered blue tunic, black knee-high boots, and silver tights. Alec collects his <em> Siegfried </em>costume, carefully laying the tunic over his forearm. “Just in the case of a change of heart,” she adds. “You’ll want to be ready for that, dear. We’ll <em> all </em> want to be ready for that.”</p><p>Alec leaves her for the theatre, where Jace and Magnus are already on stage dancing <em>pas de deux</em>. He stares at the men, made breathless by the sight of them transformed by their costumes. </p><p>All the pain that Alec knows it takes to dance ballet seems worlds away as Jace doesn’t grit out sets of <em>double tours </em>but instead, he surges in flight beneath his wings. And Alec forgets all about how much sweat can pour off even the fittest human form when it guts out circles of <em>coupè jetè en tournant </em>as the ebony-winged Magnus soars in arcs around him. All of the movements that Jace and Magnus make on the stage, under lights in front of sets and before seats, they have practised until exhaustion in rehearsals. But the principal dancers perform these now as fresh and honest as something done for the first time; and with so much grace that all the mechanizations of dancing are forgotten by Alec as he stands, paused and watching, hypnotized by especially Jace. </p><p>But not for his beauty, projected fear, or fragility. Even though he, as he should, dances as the embodiment of all of these things; beneath the facade of Jace’s <em> White Swan</em>, Alec can feel that something is wrong. He dances furious too, as angry as Alec thinks he’s ever seen him perform and Alec can feel it in his own muscles and tendons, firmly in the habit of shadowing; but also because they are kindred. Alec’s body innately mimics what is inside Jace’s soul: frustration.</p><p>Three sharp claps ring out and then the martinet lets Jace have it. “<em>Nom de Dieu, j'en ai marre! </em> Black Swan, take a break. White Swan, <em> viens ici maintenant!</em>”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“<em>Laisse tomber, </em> I will come there to you,” she huffs and then mutters something else to the floor in French as she stomps toward the stairs which lead to the stage. She storms in Jace’s direction, wringing her wrists in a fever. But when she arrives within arms reach of him, she simply cups both of her hands around the back of his neck and pulls his tormented face down to her own.</p><p>Alec’s too far away to hear a word, in either English or French, of what she says to him; but after a moment the martinet draws away, releasing Jace. His wings furl. He turns a half-circle and steps downstage. Alec frowns; there are no scenes with the Black Swan in which the White Swan would need to start in this location. Only scenes in which-</p><p>“Well?” the martinet calls out across the theatre to Alec. “What the fuck else do you think those <em> imbeciles </em> in wardrobe have put you in <em> that </em> for then, <em> prince?</em>”</p><p>Alec looks down at his <em>White Swan</em> costume. He doesn’t know what to say. And before he can hardly even think that, the martinet has begun another sequence of mutterings to the floor in franglais as she leaves the stage. “<em>Putain</em>,” she does say loud enough for Alec to catch on her way to resume her seat in the first row of stalls. And presently she turns around to face Alec again, who’s still standing, gobsmacked, at the back of the theatre; tunic still folded neatly across his forearm. </p><p>“Well, come on, then!” she says, thrusting her head in the direction of Jace, still positioned in first onstage. “Can you not see that <em> Black Swan </em>is waiting for their <em> White Swan </em>to join them? And none of us watching has all afternoon to sit on our aging asses waiting for that!” She claps thrice. “<em>Move.</em>”</p><p>Like Pavlov’s dog, Alec walks to the stairs and ascends them. Positions his feet in the ways he’s been shadowing for weeks as he’s watched Jace rehearse this choreography with Magnus. The piano begins and Jace launches himself into the first sequence of movements; and Alec, out of shock as well as habit, moves with him. But he is no longer a shadow. Alec is the virgin to Jace’s vamp.</p><p>When Jace <em>fouettés</em>, Alec rises on <em>demi-pointe</em> feet; no longer needing to imagine anything for somebody else really is dancing as Alec‘s complement now. Together they dip and Alec hears the rustle of fabric in his ears as for the first time on stage his wings emerge and unfurl behind him to the ominous notes of <em>Perfection in E Major</em>. Jace leaps from Alec and his wings re-emerge as the principal and his alternate conclude the last flirtatious dance of the company’s <em>Swan Lake</em> story. </p><p>But although Jace dances Magnus' role, it’s still only the <em>White Swan</em> costume Alec sees flitting from his reach; teasing and tormenting, and it feels like that to Alec too. Not a rehearsal anymore but a real moment between them. Breaths that he usually counts the duration of, keeping internal time, are not metronomic now. They power the beat of his wings; and these take him in pursuit of the creature in his sight. A creature he’s always been chasing. A creature who's always invited him to.</p><p>Who is whipping around, wings ablur, until exhausted the being wilts into loving arms that caress it. And in the most secret part of Alec’s heart, there are no doubts anymore. Alec bends forward and lowers his head as he’s never seen Jace do to Magnus in any of their rehearsals. This is not shadowing either. But nor is this a dancer Alec barely knows: it’s Jace. And Alec is spellbound by him.</p><p>“You were perfect,” he whispers into Jace’s ear, under the pretense of catching his breath, he hopes. No claps ring out across the theatre though, so Alec waits; eyes caught on circles of yellow light caught in Jace’s hair. And in the soft curves of his upper wings. Still unfurled as Alec holds him. </p><p>Alec’s eyes flick to the floor of the stage. To the shadows their winged bodies cast. Not machines anymore, just beings. One cheek pressed to another. Jace presses his mouth to Alec’s ear and whispers, “Why can I let go like this with you but not with <em>him?</em>”</p>
<hr/><p>They’ve never walked through this underpass. This isn’t the way to the subway. Alec reaches out for Jace’s hand and squeezes the tips of his fingers. </p><p>“I was beginning to think the two of you weren’t coming.”</p><p>Hot and humid air collides with Alec’s cheeks, cold and tight from the night. Deep beats thrum through his whole body, leaving him feeling winded, breathless; and in every direction acidic green lights cast hues over dancers who writhe in their glow. Their faces distorted and their limbs contorted by snaps of bright white from above.</p><p>Alec fixes his eyes on the back of Jace’s hair, still flashing gold in moments, even under the strobes; which are moving around them in sweeping, searching arcs now, sirens.</p><p>Jace stops on the floor and turns to face Alec, who pauses, waiting for a cue. Unsure what it will be. Would Jace want to dance here? Or pull Alec over toward a quiet corner and just talk some more, like he'd started to onstage? Maybe pull Alec out of here completely; and back to the subway and home. But Jace doesn’t pull Alec anywhere. He just starts to move on the dancefloor. So Alec moves too.</p><p>Next to them, a pair of boys grind against each other and beyond them, girls start to tongue. Jace says something that Alec can’t hear so he bends to place an ear to his mouth. Jace’s hands bring Alec’s face nearer. Their lower bodies brush, now their top halves are closer. Lips touch sensitive skin beneath earlobes and Jace repeats what he just said; something about drinks.</p><p>“Only one though, then we split,” Jace says, his mouth still pressed to Alec’s ear. “We’re all on the stage for real tomorrow. None of us should even <em> be </em> here.”</p><p>Alec moves his face so he can see Jace again; look into his eyes, wide and bright. He’s as beautiful here as hours ago when they were both still in the theatre. “Just talk to him a little bit,” Alec says, pressing his cheek to Jace’s again. “Let him get to know you...he only wants to talk.”</p><p>“How do you know that for sure though?” Jace asks, his hands still on Alec, keeping him close as the throng around them pushes their bodies in ways they can’t control; at times threatening to tear them apart. “What if he...you know...wants to do <em> more </em> than that?” Jace adds. “<em>She </em>doesn’t want us rehearsing it but...well...what if <em>he </em>wants to? What if he <em> wants </em> to rehearse it?”</p><p>Again Alec moves his face. Brushes his jaw along Jace’s so that his eyes can search him anew. His lips are as close as they were in the theatre. Maybe they’re even closer. Imagery starts to fill Alec’s mind, his hands start to circle Jace; and Alec doesn’t bother moving his mouth back to Jace’s ear this time. Just stares at his lips and asks, “Do <em> you </em> want to rehearse it?”</p><p>Jace doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move anything either. Alec sways Jace’s body a little. Nothing to do with the beats of the music, something inside him counts the tempo for this. Maybe it is the three-four one of <em> Perfection in E Major</em>. Playing in his head. As Magnus slides between them. </p><p>His face is still painted. In symmetrical sweeps of make-up starting from his cheekbones and serpentining all the way up past his deep brown eyes to the soft fringes of hair about his temples. And through that image, Jace's face re-emerges; his two-toned eyes still faintly lined by the lingering paint from his own costume. Still embedded into faint lines in Jace's skin. Alec leans in. The tips of their noses brush. Then Alec’s mouth just slides over Jace’s and the two of them begin to kiss.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pas de Trois</h2></a>
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    <p>“Oh my god,” Meliorn pants, cheeks rouged, eyes bright, skin glistening as he and the rest of the <em> corps </em> brush by Alec. “Oh my god, that felt fucking <em> amazing</em>...” </p><p>They disappear back into the dark folds of offstage as the curtain comes down and its heavy weights collide with the floor. Alec feels the impact through his bare soles but the sound is drowned by the roar of applause that is surging from the stalls now, just a few meters from beyond the curtain. </p><p>He positions his feet then brushes his hands from first through to fifth, controlling his nerves with his usual habit. His internal clock counting beats and pacing the ones in his heart; as behind the lowered curtain, onstage, Magnus positions his own feet. Catching Alec’s eye on route to a <em>cambré</em> so low the palms of his hands brush the stage. <em>Á</em> <em>terre</em>; the starting position for the final dance as the first four bars of oboes and strings transition to<em> A Minor</em>. And the curtain re-opens on the winged Black Swan; rising <em>en pointe</em> in shoes.</p><p>The applause from the stalls resurges and those vibrations don’t just make Alec’s body hum; tick over like the well-tuned machine it is. Those vibrations thrill it; all of his careful controlling unravels and Alec’s heart returns to his mouth as he watches Magnus begin the Black Swan’s final solo to the earliest strains of <em> Perfection in E Major</em>. And that sight unravels other carefully controlled things. And does another thing to Alec’s heart. </p><p>He toes the fraying edge of the gaffer-taped cross on the floor, marking his spot behind the flats, restless to start. But for all of his human urges, Alec holds on; doesn’t bolt until his cue, still committed. As Magnus executes a perfect <em> bourree </em> across the stage; its deep, mirrored sheen now a lake at night over which his Black Swan glides. Beautiful, assured and seductive. </p><p>Alec’s breath is swept from his lungs for what must be the thousandth time in the past six weeks of rehearsals, both in the studio and on this floor. And in between the practise sessions. When they’ve passed by each other, noticed each other, spoken a little to each other of themselves; when Alec’s imagined Magnus and this.</p><p>But none of that has ever made Alec feel like he does now. The sudden magic of performance even though both Alec and Magnus have trained for almost two months for it. Lived and breathed every movement and controlled all of the thoughts that might undo them all if one dancer or the other loses his focus here. In front of eyes that aren’t just <em> Martinet’s</em>. Even for a fraction of a moment. If Magnus holds his breath into a step. If Alec gets cocky or misses a cue.</p><p>So taken by the sight of the Black Swan, for all of his earlier eagerness, Prince Siegfried almost does exactly that; the crossed black-tighted knees, the feathered hips, the winged sink to the stage. Magnus’ arms gracefully positioned above himself in fifth before they appear to simply melt into the floor in the finest display of <em> ballon </em>that has surely ever been performed in the company’s modest Brooklyn theatre. At least, the finest one that Alec’s ever seen here. As fine as he’s ever seen Jace’s, that’s sure. Magnus’ keen painted eyes fall upon the prince again; yearning, almost accusative. And as sharp as the coif in the Black Swan’s hair. </p><p>Alec’s stomach jolts and adrenalin powers him out from the dark of the flats and bathes the silvers and blues of his costume in the unmistakable heat of his own spotlight. Siegfried approaches the Black Swan shyly at first, longing for the creature who’s captured his heart but afraid of how he finds them here; alone beneath a moonless night, at the verge of a watery, unknown depth. A forlorn being torn into two, driven to the edge of hopelessness. Their White Swan gone, already driven away. The Black Swan believing they’ll never return and that they’re doomed to finish this last dance alone. And, by their own hand, divided; split into two, incomplete.</p><p>Magnus’ wings furl and he leans forward. His arms reach out to far beyond the length of his pointe shoes; down to the voice of despair which calls the Black Swan to it so fondly. Much more fondly than hope’s call; a sound which is fading as the strings play <em> A Minor </em> and a smatter of snare beats crash through the near-human notes. Until just as suddenly they, too, fall away and up through that emptiness rise the plucked strings of a harp.  </p><p>To its soft round sounds, all the percussive and minor notes gone now, Alec steps through his first choreography. His own <em> bourree, </em> barefoot on <em> demi-pointe</em>. And the Black Swan listens to the prince’s call, too, as Siegfried tries once more. The french horns begin and from the corner of his eye, Alec sees the moon rise on a pair of white wings. And Alec knows two things then; the White Swan feels the same human thrums as Alec, and Jace never even near-misses his cues.</p><p>Alec and Jace, the prince and the White Swan, dance <em> pas de deux </em> around Magnus. Their synchronized <em> pas de valse </em> calling out to <em> Black Swan </em>together. Magnus rises to his feet and Jace begins the steps that Alec has shadowed in rehearsals until his limbs have ached so deep it felt surreal, although Alec feels nothing of that now as Black Swan surges. White Swan soars. And even though he feels like he could fly too, Alec kneels onstage before them to watch.</p><p>But Alec is nobody’s alternate now. The prince, who throughout the whole of the company’s story has imagined either the deep night or the morning, the lust or the innocence, and known the drama of them both, doesn’t just watch but sees. Doesn’t just shadow but lights the swans who no longer fly opposed but in synchrony. Jace sweeps one arm in a perfect <em> arrondi </em> around Magnus, drawing the dancers together again, and Alec’s heart pounds its hardest yet at the sight of them enfolding. Magnus in a shallow <em> cambré </em> as he bends inside of Jace’s arms, then pushes off; his launch enhanced by the strength of his partner as Magnus begins the final near-climactic sequence of <em> fouettés</em>. </p><p>Alec and Jace circle him as he whips and the audience spurs. Although all that Alec can hear is the thudding of his own heart as Jace reaches for Magnus and envelops him once more in his arms, which is Alec’s final cue. Prince Siegfried joins the Black Swan and the White Swan, and together they welcome their prince, as all three dancers slow together in the centre of the stage. Jace bent, Magnus with him, exhausted. And Alec embracing them both; no longer imagining anything for they are both really here to dance with Alec this time.</p><p>The last bars play out from the pit as Alec stares at a point halfway between his mouth and his bent arm. The back of Jace’s head, golden circles of light dancing in his hair and along the edge of the tops of his wings. As Jace dips lower to Magnus. And the pair of them kiss. To the loudest and most enduring rounds of applause Alec’s ever heard.</p>
<hr/><p>His eyes flicker along with the strip lights. Passing outside the subway carriage. One blurring into the next as the train leaves the city, and Alec’s focus tilts from the distance to the reflection in the window he’s looking through; of the two very tired creatures at rest on the seat across from his own. </p><p>Jace sits closest to the window of the carriage. His knees spread, his equipment bag on the floor between his ankles. His head tipped back; at rest now against the scuffed Perspex. Marked by scratches embedded with enamel paint, maybe even decades old; Jace's face mirroring the burring on the window. The faint lines around his eyes still full of make-up, not quite all taken off in the dressing room. Backstage at the theatre. Amidst the highs of post-performance. </p><p>From across the seat, Alec smiles at him. Even though Jace can’t see it. His eyes are closed, he’s sleeping, Alec can tell. And, in his lap, the eyes of Magnus are also closed. But Magnus is not asleep too; he is squeezing the tips of Alec’s fingers and Alec is squeezing back.</p><p>“You still never told me,” Magnus murmurs, shifting his cheek on Jace’s thigh. </p><p>Alec tilts his head and runs his fingers down past Magnus’ rings and into his palm, which lies face-up on Alec’s knee. He strokes Magnus there, in the cup of his palm, until Magnus opens his eyes. “Told you what?” Alec asks quietly, mindful of Jace’s sleep so he keeps his voice low. But just loud enough so Magnus can hear him over the soft snores Jace has started to make. Still leant against the window of the carriage.</p><p>“I think I figured it out though,” Magnus murmurs, his eyes bright even through their sleepiness. Alec smiles at that and starts to draw little invisible circles over Magnus’ palm. Enjoying the feeling as well as the one that the small smile on Magnus’ face is making inside him. In many more places than just the most secret parts of Alec’s heart. “You haven’t always danced.”</p><p>“Only since I was eleven,” Alec says. “That’s when my parents adopted Jace. He did ballet. So I did it too.”</p><p>“I’m very glad,” Magnus whispers. “I’m very glad you did it to. I’m very glad you still do ballet...both of you...Alexander?”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>Magnus closes his eyes again. He turns his hand over so his palm is face-down now and he curves his hand around Jace’s knee. Alec covers Magnus’ hand with his own. “<em>Martinet</em> was right...about another thing too...how much further is it? Until we get to the Bronx?””</p><p>“Little bit,” Alec whispers back. “Maybe sleep a little bit, it's okay...I’ll wake you when we get there, so we won't miss it...I promise that I won't fall asleep too.” Magnus mumbles something Alec doesn’t quite catch. “Huh?” Alec asks, squeezing very lightly around his hand.</p><p>“Kiss,” Magnus mumbles. “Wake us like that, Alexander...when we get there...handsome prince.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><br/>Thank you so much for reading this story! I really appreciate it &lt;3</p>
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